


Memories

by blu_eyed_demon



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-08
Updated: 2012-03-08
Packaged: 2017-11-01 15:54:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/358624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blu_eyed_demon/pseuds/blu_eyed_demon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sirius Black, on entering Gryffindor Tower looking for retribution instead finds himself overwhelmed with memories, some joyful, some painful. Sirius' POV set during the end of the chapter 'Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw' in 'Prisoner of Azkaban'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Memories

**Author's Note:**

> Whilst the characters are not my own, this work is and I do not give permission for this work to be duplicated or posted anywhere else

Sirius Black took several steps forward as the portrait of the gibbering knight swung shut. Though his name had been long forgotten, the odd mix of medieval insults and promises of camaraderie stirred a memory in the depths of Sirius' mind. A hazy, half-remembered incident suddenly surfaced, in which he and James had engaged in a verbal sparring match with the knight for the amusement of their classmates, competing with one another to come up with the most absurd insults without cracking up.

As he stood there, Sirius could suddenly remember it as clearly as if it all happened yesterday, but for the life of him he couldn't recall the name of the knight that was clearly a few cards short of a deck. For twelve long years the dementors had sucked out every happy feeling and memory from him, but finally re-entering the first real home he'd ever known seemed to be slowly bringing the fragments back together, restoring him gradually piece by piece.

Slowly, his eyes roamed around the common room as snatches of his past came rushing back to him. The pranks, the laughter, the friendship became ever more real to him than they had in over a decade as the familiar smells and sights of the room filled his senses.

This was the place where his now lost youthful joy and curiosity had been born and nurtured, where he'd finally found a true home and family of his own. This was the place he'd escaped to when he'd left the stifling and oppressive building that had been the Black ancestral home. The thought of that house caused a frown to darken the face that had moments ago been so wistful, so glad to be once again be standing in Gryffindor Tower.

He began to move through the array of squashy armchairs, mismatched tables, debris from their party and randomly discarded books, mind still dwelling on his old loathing for his family and that damnable house. He sincerely hoped that number 11 Grimmauld Place had, during his incarceration, succumbed to the years and fallen into disrepair, taking the bigoted Black legacy with it.

The bandy-legged ginger cat, his ally, appeared suddenly in the room, greeting him with loud purrs as he rubbed around Sirius' ankles. He paused and stooped down to stroke the cat, he had after all been the first and only creature to show him some kindness in a very long time and that wasn't something that Sirius took for-granted.

"Show me to Harry's dorm, will you?" He whispered hoarsely causing the ginger cat to lead the way over the familiar door that Sirius knew concealed behind it the stairs leading up to the boys' dormitories. This would hopefully makes things a lot easier, after all without the cat and utterly wandless, he would had to have resorted to searching every bed in every dorm one by one until he reached the correct one, which despite the lateness of the hour would be an extremely risky plan indeed.

He straightened once more and as he did so his eyes fell on a large, low coffee table sporting several nasty scorch marks. A vivid memory clear as day flared within Sirius' mind's eye. Peter, whilst attempting to practice an incantation he'd been struggling with, had mispronounced his spell causing several nearby papers to catch alight including his own charms notes, Remus's lengthy potions essay for Slughorn, and James' far shorter attempt at composing a flirty message to send over to Evans in form of a paper butterfly. At least that had been his plan until Peter had created the small inferno.

For a moment, Sirius was fifteen again, watching with glee as his three friends attempted to somehow put out the miniature blaze and restore their respective handiwork.

And then it was the present again and Sirius ached, physically ached, as he thought of the carefree teenage version of James wooing the resistant Lily Evans, both now long dead. The ache did not lessen as his thoughts turned to Remus, the once ever loyal Remus, who no doubt thought him to be a traitor and murderer like everyone else. And there was Peter, Peter who had to pay for it all.

He looked up to find the cat had pushed the door open and was sitting on the bottom step, watching him expectantly. Yes, they had work to do.

He followed silently as the cat bounded up the stone steps, eventually halting outside of an all too familiar door. This was the dormitory in which it had all begun on their first night in Hogwarts, it was fitting therefore that here would be where it all ended, for Peter at least.

Gently he pushed the door open, the cat did not follow. He seemed to understand that this was Sirius' task to do alone.

He looked around the room, taking in the familiar four poster beds with rich velvet hangings in the house colours. The bed nearest to the door first caught his attention, once his own bed. On the small table beside the bed sat a wand, a half drunk glass of water and a pair of glasses.

Diverted from his mission momentarily, Sirius approached this bed first. He could not help himself. Harry was his godson and the reason for all of this. Harry was James' son and just as James had always been more like family than Sirius's own relatives, Harry to him was far more than a godson.

He doubted after all that had happened that he, Sirius, would ever marry or have children of his own. Harry was not only Lily and James' legacy, but his own too. He would do right by Harry, he would protect him like a son. Even if it was more than likely that the boy loathed him.

His fingers trembled slightly as he pulled the hangings around the bed back. He had not seen Harry this close up since his godson had been an infant. Sirius had since seen snatches of Harry since: that night near his Uncle's house, a few times when he'd attended class outside and, of course, the quidditch match. He'd always kept his distance, however, not wishing to alarm the boy that he was trying to protect.

He felt a pang to his heart as he looked down at the sleeping thirteen year old boy, his slumbering progeny. In these past few months of overseeing Harry, of attempting to guard him from afar, he had never seen the boy appear to be so peaceful. It had occurred to him more than once that his escape from prison may be causing his godchild more stress than he'd ever expected or intended.

In his sleep Harry stirred and his messy hair, oh so reminiscent of his father James, shifted with his movements exposing the famous scar. Reaching down, Sirius's forefinger very lightly traced the mark, his heart aching as he thought of how he could have prevented all of this.

Memories came flooding back to him yet again, this time more powerful and so much clearer than anything else. Lily and James bringing Harry home for the first time, the time that he and Remus has babysat Harry and subsequently nearly flooded the bathroom, buying Harry his first toy brrom and his attempts at teaching Harry how to say 'Sirius' and how James had laughed hysterically when the closest Harry could get was 'Sillyus', he'd endured the nickname of 'Silly' for weeks after. The most overwhelming memory to hit him, however, the clearest of them all, was of the conversation he and James had had as they checked on little Harry, the night that Peter had later been made the secretkeeper.

Sirius had found James in the nursery, standing at the foot of the cot, watching his infant son sleeping peacefully.

"Hey, Lily sent me up with this." Sirius crossed over the room and handed a mug of steaming hot chocolate over.

"Thanks Padfoot," James replied quietly, his voice sounding heavy. He looked more sombre than Sirius could ever remember seeing him before. "If this doesn't work, if something happens-"

"Nothing's going to happen Prongs, you've got Dumbledore protecting you. This Fidelius charm things looks like pretty powerful magic, sounds perfect."

"Perfect? We won't be able to leave the house. Ever." James the expert flier, James the animagus stag, who had never been keen on being cooped up but he and Sirius both knew, despite his complaints, that it was for the greater good.

"But if it saves your lives,"

"Then it'll be worth it," James nodded, his eyes leaving Harry to meet Sirius' gaze. "I'd do anything for them, you know? I would duel Voldemort for them if I thought it would save their lives."

"I know, Prongs. I would too," Sirius murmured, a gentle breeze came through the slightly open window ruffling James' hair and causing Harry's little mobile of quidditch players to whirl around.

James, still looking so unnaturally serious, shook his head "I know you would Padfoot but if I die-"

"You are not going to die, James," Sirius said a touch louder and more forcefully than he'd intended to. Both men quickly looked downwards but Harry was still fast asleep, peacefully sucking his thumb.

"I might," James continued "Plenty of Order members who were far more skilled than me at duelling have already, and if I do die then I need you to keep your head Padfoot, I need you to protect Lily and Harry. Help them in any way you can, you and Remus and Peter, I'm counting on you all."

"You know I will. I love Harry and Lily. If something happened I'd keep them safe, I promise." Sirius nodded and extended his hand to James "I'll even make an unbreakable vow."

"No need," James replied firmly, a hint of a smile ghosting over his lips "I trust you with my life Sirius, and I trust you with theirs too."

James had trusted him and, instead of keeping his promise, he'd enabled the traitor Peter to betray the Potters. Now though, now he was finally living his promise to James and was about to avenge his friends.

He sighed softly as he forced himself to close the hangings and move away from Harry's side, after all he was wasting valuable time. He instantly turned into his dog from and inhaled deeply. He could remember Peter's scent, even as a rat, clearly despite the long years in Azkaban. It led him to the four poster bed opposite Harry's. He padded over to the bed before changing back into his human form and reaching for the knife he'd brought with him, one he'd stolen from Hagrid's hut.

Peter's scent, the scar on poor little Harry's forehead, and James words uging him to protect Lily and Harry resounded in his head as rage welled up inside of him and he lifted the knife up, slashing the hanging's away from the bed. As the bed was exposed to the faint light of dying candles, his eyes combed over the bed searching for the rat that was Peter. And then Sirius' luck ran out.

Harry's red-headed, freckly friend who was asleep in the bed suddenly jerked awake, saw Sirius and screamed. He yell instantly started waking the boys and Peter who shot under the bed at the sight of Sirius.

Knowing he had minutes, if that, to flee the tower, Sirius ran out of the room. As he ran down the stairs, he shifted forms into the black dog once more and shot through the common room and out of the portrait hole.

As he went his ears were filled with various dog related medieval jibes from the mad knight which eventually faded as he kept on running. He sped through passages ways and short cuts, down flights of stairs and through old classrooms, eventually bounding out of the front doors and across the lawn, straight for the whomping willow.

Once in the relative safety of the passageway, Sirius returned to his human form and sat down, panting from exertion. He had failed once again to dispose of Peter Pettigrew but at least he had seen his godson.

The ginger cat appeared in the dark and climbed onto his lap purring. He smiled faintly to himself and the petted his feline friend as he thought once more on the past and those memories from his teenage years that the common room had brought back to him. His mind recalled, in perfect clarity this time, James's teenage voice jovially taunting the knight into a comical frenzy. He smiled somewhat sadly as he finally remembered the name: Cadogan.


End file.
